


This Time Next Year

by slightlytookish



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Bastogne, Canon Era, M/M, New Year's Eve, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22001692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: Dick spent the last hour of 1944 walking the line.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 18
Kudos: 61
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	This Time Next Year

Dick spent the last hour of 1944 walking the line. The siege had broken, and though they still hadn't been relieved and were awaiting orders for the counter offensive, they had been resupplied. Cigarettes and hot chow always went a long way towards boosting morale and when Dick had checked on the men earlier they were in good spirits, sitting or standing together in small pockets around their foxholes as they shared smokes and chocolate bars.

Now, though, those same little groups had gone back to their foxholes and the uneasy hush of the forest had returned. The only thing Dick could hear was the sound of the snow crunching beneath his boots as he made his way along the line. The siege might be over but the enemy hadn't retreated, and after the barrage on Christmas Eve no one expected the Germans to take a break to celebrate the New Year. It seemed more likely that they'd ring it in with artillery.

There was no break in the weather, either. Dick tied the knot of his scarf tighter under his chin and shoved his gloved hands deep into his pockets, for all the good it would do. He still felt the sting of the cold winding its way under his helmet and through the seams of his ODs, and no matter how long he walked through the woods, it never made him feel any warmer.

He'd just passed from Fox Company's section of the line into Easy's when he heard familiar-sounding footsteps coming towards him. A moment later Nix emerged from the trees. It was too dark to see his face clearly, but Dick could hear the smile in his voice. "Come here often?"

"Can't seem to stay away," Dick replied. Nix's answering chuckle warmed him better than any coat could.

"Just out of curiosity," Nix said, falling into step beside him. They were going in the same direction that Nix had come from, but if he minded retracing his steps he didn't complain. "If I handed you a glass of champagne right now, would you drink it?"

Nix didn't even have a bag with him - he just had his M1 slung over his shoulder, and Dick didn't know where he'd get a bottle of champagne from anyway, never mind the glasses. But he'd learned long ago not to question Nix's scrounging skills or where he managed to stash things. The remaining bottles of Vat 69 still tucked away in his footlocker back in Mourmelon were enough of a testament to that. "Didn't know they sent champagne in the last supply drop."

"Ha. Must've been an oversight." They reached a section of the woods that had been shelled heavily several days before; now, it allowed enough moonlight to peek through the splintered treetops for Dick to see the look of pure amusement on Nix's face. "But let's say they had sent some. Would you drink any of it?"

"Probably not," he admitted. Nix sighed heavily, sounding resigned, though he perked up quickly enough when Dick added, "Not much to celebrate."

"What, you don't want to toast Patton?" Nix said. His smirk deepened when Dick rolled his eyes. "Anyway, what I'm hearing is, you'd have some champagne with me if there _were_ something to celebrate."

Dick shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Hey, you can't back out now. You drank that crap Guarnere gave you in Normandy. What was it again, gasoline?"

"It was only a sip."

"And that's all I'm asking for, just so I can say that I saw it happen this time. Don't worry, I'll get you the good stuff."

"I wouldn't know the difference."

Nix snorted. "You'll probably still hate it." They walked for a few minutes in silence before he spoke again. "Look, I know we didn't get to Berlin by Christmas but what the hell, we're supposed to make resolutions tonight, aren't we? Well, here's mine: this time next year we'll be toasting each other in New York."

"New York, huh?" Dick's heart leaped just like it always did when Nix started making plans for the future. Plans that always seemed to include him, too, as if Nix just assumed they'd continue living in each other's pockets once they got back to the States. "What happened to Chicago?"

"Oh, I'll still take you there, but New Year's Eve is better in New York. I'll pick you up at the farm-"

"I've told you, we don't live on a farm-"

" _Pick you up at the farm_ , wave goodbye to your cows-"

"Never had any cows, either-"

"And then we'll drive down to New York. We can watch the ball drop in Times Square. Gets crowded, though. You have to get there early to get a good spot. We'll have dinner first, find someplace decent in the area. The Astor's nice." He glanced sideways at Dick, suddenly looking tense for some reason Dick couldn't understand. "Ever hear the one about the bar at the Astor?"

Dick hadn't. "What about it?"

He expected to hear a punchline, but Nix just waved him off. "You can get a fine drink there," was all that he said, and Dick couldn't tell if he sounded relieved or disappointed, or maybe a little bit of both. "Guess what happens next."

"Well, let's see. Does it involve champagne?"

"There you go!" Nix clapped Dick's shoulder and then left his hand there. Dick could feel the welcome weight of it, the warmth of Nix's touch passing through all the layers of his clothing and right to his skin, even though it didn't seem possible in this kind of cold. 

"Sounds like a nice time," Dick said, and it did. But sometimes he wondered if Nix really meant all of it - the plans, the _I'll take you there_ 's, the imaginary itineraries he created for them during late-night conversations in foxholes and drafty billets. He wondered if Nix would still want them to stick together even when they didn't have to, when there were other people to be with and other places to be. Surely once they got home Nix would have better things to do than hang around with an old war buddy.

But then he always felt guilty for doubting, when Nix had done nothing but stand by him - even now, he was freezing in the woods when he could be with the rest of the staff officers in town with a roof over his head for the night. Maybe they even had champagne back at regiment to toast the New Year. And yet, Nix was still at Dick's side.

"It will be," Nix said. Still hanging onto Dick's shoulder, he gave it a squeeze before letting go. "We'll make sure it is." 

When Nix sounded this certain, how could Dick not believe him?

"Oh well, we missed midnight," Nix said with a glance at his watch.

"Did we?" Maybe Nix was right and 1945 would be the year they finally went home. Maybe they'd even still be together at the end of it. Dick caught Nix's eye. "Guess that means we'll be in New York by the end of this year."

Nix's eyes crinkled at the corners like he was trying to hold back a smile. "Guess it does," he agreed, and they walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little information about the [bar at the Hotel Astor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hotel_Astor_\(New_York_City\)#Social_history) and its reputation as a gay meeting place. I first read about it while researching the hotel a couple years ago for a fic in another fandom (Bandstand). The bar didn't make it into that fic, and since I've been sad for the past two years that the hotel was demolished decades ago, I'm glad I was able to include a nod to it now.


End file.
